Original subtitles

So, then Sandi said to Mr. O'Neill, "Well, if you want to get technical, all

writing is plagiarism because you're using words that already exist," and he

gave her an 'F' anyway.

Maybe she shouldn't have titled her story Sandi Griffin's Dracula.

No hardtack tonight, lads. We're going top-rail number one!

Gee, is it family babble time already?

That's Civil War talk, Daria.

What is that?

It's from my new Civil War cookbook.

Civil War cookbook. So you're serving us amputated leg?

Eew!

No, it's corned pork and cabbage.

EEW!

Good news, everyone.

If it's about us lads goin' top-rail number one, that's yesterday's broadsheet.

We've finally settled the ATC Motors case after eight grueling months, and at

last I'm going to get some time off to spend with my family.

Dad, who's that woman in the business suit?

I mean it this time. Eric's, um, exhausted, and he's taking twenty-eight days

to, uh, recuperate. All that espresso he was drinking really wore him down.

Espresso?

To say nothing of those prescription amphetamine donuts.

Daria!

So, he's in detox again?

Quinn!

Oh, right! Espresso...

Hellllooo? Oh, hello, Rita.

Uh oh, call the sibling rivalry S.W.A.T. team.

What? Erin and Brian are getting divorced?

Uh! You mean I spend the whole day in that disgusting bridesmaid's dress for nothing?

No, you had to pay for it. Remember?

Well, of course I'd love to handle it, but it's not really my area of expertise, and...

Rita, there's no such thing as a simple divorce.

Hang on, that's my call-waiting.

Hello? Oh, mom. Hi... Well, I was just now talking to Rita about that.

See, I just came off this back-breaking case...

You tell her!

Yes, I know this isn't easy for either of them, but an attorney who specializes

in divorce could... Well, I wouldn't say I'm the best lawyer in my firm. Eric's...

Really? Well, of course I want Rita in the most capable hands possible.

Don't worry about a thing. Bye.

Rita? I'm in.

Oh God, Helen, no! The way you and your sister fight, a man can only take so much.

No, that was Jake. He says "hi."

Well, if I can't say Sandi Griffin's Dracula, why does Brad Stoker get to say

Brad Stoker's Dracula?

Um, I think that's Bram Stoker.

I don't.

Perhaps not. But anyway, he gets to say it because he made the story up.

Huh. Quinn, Dracula is an internationally known, celebrity vampire.

"He made the story up."

Guys, how do you like my new dress? You don't think the blue is too risqué do you?

Not at all, and it goes perfectly with your cell phone.

Really? You're not just saying that?

Quinn's right. For once, you have chosen a dress that's not a complete

embarrassment to the rest of us.

Oh, thank you, Sandi!

Come on, let's get to the cafeteria before they run out of shredded lettuce.

Uh!

Oh, no! Tiffany is wearing your dress. Now what are you going to do?

In this canine go-go bar, the specialty of the house is Hot Dog!

Lap dancing lap dogs next, on Sick, Sad World.

What do you think, Daria? Stonewall Jackson fed his men these Johnny cakes the

night before the battle of Chancellorsville.

Well, that explains why they shot him there.

Alright, Rita, I've gathered the necessary paperwork, and we can go over it when

you and Erin get here Saturday.

Actually, it will just be Erin. I'd come, but I promised Ralph- you know, the

actor I've been dating- I promised to take him to New York for his birthday,

maybe catch a play or two.

Uh-huh.

But I'll call you when I get back. Good luck.

Well, that's just perfect. Rita's not even coming.

Hey, that's great!

No, it's not! She's spending the money I'm saving her on a trip for her

boyfriend to New York!

Johnny cake?

Hey.

You know, I can't get through on the phone at all anymore. Isn't your sister

afraid her ear will grow over the receiver?

Actually, my mother's the one burning up the lines. My idiot cousin is suing her

husband for a divorce, and mom got roped into handling it.

Ouch. Want to drive around the block and give me the gory details?

No, I've already put a bitching session with Jane on my calendar for tomorrow.

Okay, so, just want to drive around the block with no discernable goal?

It's probably not a good time for that. Thanks though.

No thanks nece...

... ssary.

So my mother gets caught up in this crap with her family, and then our family

has to suffer for it.

And you're not even looking forward to having a ringside seat at your cousin's

gut wrenching breakup?

I know. It's like I've forgotten how to have fun.

Alright. Stacy? Tiffany? You may each deliver your prepared statement about why

you should have the dress.

A debate was such a great idea, Sandi.

Followed by a rebuttal.

Eew. That word.

Stacy?

Well, I think I should have the dress because Tiffany looks good in anything,

whereas I don't, due to a slight asymmetry in my shoulders that is very painful

for me even to mention, but which this particular dress minimizes while setting

off my eyes.

Very good, Stacy. And now, Tiffany.

Well, I think I should have the dress.

Um, Tiffany, is there anything you want to add?

Yes. Thank you, and God bless.

Perhaps a debate is not the way to go here.

Hmm, should I give Erin an "after you dump him" make-over, or a "newly single

and sizzling" make-over?

That depends. Which one involves boiling oil?

Now, while Erin's here, I want you both to make her feel right at home. She's

family and she needs our love and understanding. I could kill that sister of mine!

Bring on the guest! One fresh pitcher of Martinis ready to pour.

Jake, Erin doesn't drink Martinis.

I know that. They're for me, just in case Rita calls.

That must be Erin.

Rita!

Rita, why aren't you in New York?

Ralph broke up with me. Oh, if only mom had sent me to Stadt along with Erin.

Erin's in Stadt? Switzerland?

Mom thought she could use a week at a spa, to calm her nerves. Wasn't that thoughtful?

That's mom: always thinking of her grandchildren. One of them, anyway.

Um, Rita, you know it would be really helpful if Erin were here.

It is her divorce, after all.

We call always call her if we have to. Um, Helen? I kind of arranged to have my

house painted while I thought I'd be in New York. I hope you don't mind if I

stay here with you this week?

Dear lord! What a great idea!

Oh, hi, Erin. Sorry about Brian. I hate having to break up with guys I'm dating.

No, you're right, marriage isn't the same as dating; nobody ever gives you

really nice appliances just for going out with a guy.

Erin, why are you crying?

First of all, Brian and Erin need to list all their assets.

That should be a breeze for him. You know the government fired him the day they

got back from their honeymoon? They've been living off her salary while that

clown tries to pass his real estate exam.

Well good. Then he has no real claim on her property.

Aunt Rita? Um, Erin want you to know that she and Brian kind of signed a

prenuptial agreement that she kind of never told you about that kind of split

everything fifty-fifty.

She's gotta' go. Bye.

What?! Let me talk to her. Damn!

Say, um, Daria, could you, um, help me in the, um, kitchen, with the, uh...

Johnny cakes?

Yeah, the Johnny cakes!

Smooth, Mr. Bond. Lead the way.

That little weasel made her sign a prenup. He knew she was gonna' be the bread

winner. We've gotta' fight this, Helen, all the way to the Supreme Court if we

have to.

Rita, the Supreme Court doesn't handle divorces. They're swamped with

shoplifting cases. Now, there's a junior associate in my office with a ton of

experience in matrimonial law. I'll be happy to...

You'd put Erin's life in the hands of a junior associate?

Rita. You said this was a simple divorce, and it's not. I'm really not qualified

to handle something this complicated!

Oh, I see. You're willing to help provided it doesn't take more than ten minutes

of your time. Well I'm sure mom and I can figure out some way to hire a lawyer

who can.

Alright! I'll do it.

I can't take it, Daria! The fighting, the yelling, and then always the crying.

Yours, you mean.

I've gotta' get out, at least until the dust settles.

Or the bodies stop twitching.

Now we're gonna' need a signal. Okay, when I call, if Rita is still here say,

uh, "the eagle has landed," and if they're fighting say, "the crow flies at

midnight," but if she'd gone then, "the pigeons are at rest." Got that?

Is there anyway to work in "hark, I hear the cannon's roar?"

Good luck! Hi, Quinn. Bye now.

Dad's leaving?

Only until mom and Aunt Rita stop being sisters.

Hmm, maybe after my Fashion Club meeting we should just stay around the house

until Aunt Rita leaves. You know, to be like peacekeepers? I'll cancel my dates.

You don't have any plans tonight, right?

Well, I was gonna' go downtown and count the cracks in the sidewalk.

Oh, Daria, surely that can wait? Can I make you a carrot juice?

But, Sandi, what if I agreed to wear my dress only on odd numbered days, and

Tiffany agreed to wear hers only on even numbered ones?

Stacy, days have names, not numbers.

Alternating sounds like a good idea.

Oh, sure! Until our enemies spread the rumor that Stacy and Tiffany are trading

off a single garment, the only possible scenario more horrifying than owning two

of the same dress.

Oh, God! Oh, God!

I'm sorry, Terresa, but we must return these dresses. Here are the receipts.

Oh no. Um, guys, you bought these dresses over two weeks ago. It's too late to

return them.

Surely those silly rules don't apply to your most valued customers.

I'm really sorry. I can give you some free shopping bags if you want.

I can't believe you bought my dress.

Excuse me, you bought my dress.

Guys! Guys! Stop the madness. Is a dress really worth destroying the sacred bond

between Fashion Club member and Fashion Club member? Stop your fighting before

it's too late!

Quinn, are you all right?

Knock it off, you little brats!

Who is this? Rita? Must have the wrong number!

Damn it!

Now, prenup or no prenup, with a little creative accounting, I think we can get

Brian to take a fairly modest lump sum.

God, I hope so. He's certainly old enough to be earning his own money.

Tell me about it.

What's that supposed to mean?

Oh, hi, Erin. Uh-huh WHAT?! That's great! Bye!

Guess what? The divorce is off.

But we were having so much fun.

Come on. Let's tell mom and Aunt Rita.

Just admit that employment has never been one of your strong suits.

Mom! Aunt Rita!

Excuse me, but I have more important things to do, like raise Erin.

Erin's twenty-four, Rita.

Listen! Brian flew to Switzerland to make up, and they're having a second honeymoon.

On mother's credit card, no doubt. You know, Jake and I barely had a first

honeymoon, because we had to pay for our own wedding.

And that's supposed to be my fault?

Well, if you hadn't gone over-budget on your wedding, six months before.

Your first wedding...

Hey, how's it going?

Four thousand dollars for a lighted dance floor!

Helen, disco was king!

Oh, just fine.

Mom broke every rule of parenting, the way she favored you!

It's just like you to declare the rules for everyone else!

Oh, when will it stop? When?! When?!

Care to step away from the crossfire?

What the hell is going on in there?

Look, it's bad enough I have to listen to it all day. I don't want to have to

talk about it, too.

Um, sorry. So...

I better go. Mom might need an eyewitness. Or someone to hand her the murder weapon.

Daria... ?

What?!

Nothing.

Hello?

Daria? Thank God it's you! So, um, has the eagle landed? Or is it the crow?

Aunt Rita's still here, and...

Daria, is that your father?

No, no, no, no!

A large pizza with extra cheese. Got it. Thanks for calling Pizza Prince.

You're up.

Awww...

Where is your father anyway?

Johnny Cake Fest 3000.

Great! Now Jake's run off.

Did you ever think he might stick around more if you weren't so preoccupied with work?

Excuse me? The only work I've been doing around here is for you, damn it!

Hello?

Hi, Aunt Amy.

Rita, we need to talk.

Relax. I'm going home to the paint fumes. And don't worry. Erin and I will never

bother you again.

Look, I think we both said things we shouldn't have, but for once, let's not go

away angry. Okay?

I don't know, Helen.

I've got an idea. Let's bury the hatchet and, um, bake some cookies. What do you say?

Cookies? From scratch?

More or less.

Chocolate chip or peanut butter?

The chips are already in it, right?

Of course! I think...

Aunt Amy?

Daria called for reinforcements. Have your mother and Rita killed each other yet?

Actually, they're in the kitchen making cookies.

No, really?

You're cutting those slices too thick.

The package says half an inch. That is half and inch.

Okay. I just hope you like your cookies undercooked.

Here. You cut it. I'm sure you can do a much better job that little ol' useless me.

Oh, please. You weren't even trying. You know, if you ever put your mind to anything...

Why can't they just get along?

Environmental factors: they were both exposed to each other as children.

Come in.

The cavalry has arrived.

Oh, speaking of soldier junk, Daria, Gone with the Wind is on tonight. We should

watch it. It has that Civil War that you and dad are always talking about, plus

this really big fire.

Frankly, Quinn, I don't give a crap.

You don't have to decide right now. Oh, and did I tell you your hair doesn't

look that bad today? Bye.

I know she wants something.

So, update?

Okay. Mom and Aunt Rita are on the brink of mutually assured destruction,

Quinn's obviously having a nervous breakdown, and dad's on the lamb.

Gee. Reminds me of my childhood. You holding up okay?

Well, much as I couldn't care less about Erin, I can't say my twenty-four year

old cousin's near divorce has left me exactly optimistic about life's possibilities.

So, things are not going well with that guy you've been seeing?

Huh? That's going fine, except he won't stop dropping by during this

multigenerational family crisis. He refuses to accept the fact that I don't have

time for him now.

Hmm... Maybe he's trying to offer his time to you.

Huh, maybe.

Come on. Let's see how goes the battle.

Even if I did have a job, I'm sure it couldn't possibly meet with your approval.

I guess we'll never find that out, will we?

Ah, another Kodak moment with the Barksdales.

Amy! What are you doing here?

Oh, I thought I'd drive a few hours, drop by, and see if you guys were having

the same fight you've been having for forty years.

How would you know? You spent the whole time barricaded in your room, reading

those weird Russian novels.

It was better than getting caught in the non-stop crossfire.

Oh, please. You just used us as an excuse to avoid any family responsibility

what-so-ever, so you could do whatever the hell you pleased.

At least I didn't nurse a childhood grudge well into adulthood because Rita was

mom's favorite.

I did not!

I was not!

You are too.

She's right.

I don't need your help.

Maybe mom would get along better with both of you if you ever bothered to pick

up the phone and call.

Um, mom?

Why should we when she's never offered us the slightest bit of encouragement or appreciation?

That's right!

I don't need your help.

Encouragement? You, with your grades, and your extra credit, and your awards?

You didn't make us look lazy enough, you wanted encouragement to do more?

What are you laughing at?

She's got a point.

She can laugh if she wants to.

Oh, so you think that...

Hey!

Gee, Rita, are you ever gonna' get a job? Why should I, Helen, when you won't

pay attention to mother? And you, Amy, who asked you?

Yeah! You had a dance floor at your wedding!

You're a show-off and a know-it-all.

You just hide in your room like a kermit!

Mom likes you better!

That's because I call her better!

Oh, Rita...

Helen...

I'm sorry.

Me too. Oh...

Why are you here, Amy?

Daria asked me to come mediate.

Although, perhaps that's something she's better at than I am.

Oh, Amy...

Come here...

I blame you for this.

Did you decide about Gone with the Wind?

So, then, after Aunt Amy arrived to save the day and within three minutes had

totally regressed into the same pre-school encounter group as her sisters,

Quinn and I had to take matters into our own hands.

Wow. Growing up in a repressed household is so boring next to this stuff.

We always have to pretend problems don't exist. Gets pretty inconvenient when

there are odors involved.

Yes. And speaking of pretending problems don't exist, sorry for giving you the

short end of the stick this week.

Hey, you were busy refereeing. I understand.

Actually, I think my cousin's little marital crisis made me feel weird about the

boyfriend-girlfriend thing. Does that freak you out and scare you?

No, I guess I could see that.

Thanks.

Anyway, what about a movie tonight?

I can't. I promised Quinn I'd watch Gone with the Wind with her.

Okay, that freaks me out and scares me.

Pray for me.

As President of the Fashion Club, I am putting both of you on suspension for

failing to do a wardrobe check before leaving home, and thus appearing in the

same dress on the same day.

But, Sandi, you can't suspend me. It's not fair!

My dress. It's ruined.

Oh, Tiffany, I am so sorry. It was an accident.

Sure it was, Stacy. She'll never get that grape soda out. This calls for severe

disciplinary action.

But I didn't mean to. I swear!

I'll give you my dress to prove it.

You'd do that? For me?

Of course. You're my friend.

Oh, Stacy...

Oh, that wasn't a good idea.

That movie was so sad.

I know it made me feel like crying.

Um, Quinn? There's something bothering you,

other than the saga of our fair nation being torn apart, isn't there?

No.

I only ask because I finally realized all that stuff going on here this week was

making me act strangely toward Tom. So maybe you were having a similar,

unanticipated reaction? Such as, oh, wanting to spend time with me?

Hello? Oh, hi, dad. The pigeons are at rest.

Daria? You don't think we'll end up having the same fight over and over again,

for the rest of our lives, the way mom and Aunt Rita do, do you?

No. We'll use weapons.

Don't say that!

I'll make you a deal. The only weapon I'll use against you will be my winning

personality, and the only weapon you'll use against me will be your merciless

silent treatment.

Silent treatment? I never...

Ha! Deal.

"The pigeons are at rest." That means it's safe, doesn't it? No, "the eagle has

landed" means it's safe. Or was that a condor?

Damn it, I can't sleep in here again tonight!

Written by Jacquelyn Reingold (Transcript created by Justin Smith) www.outpost-daria.com

Synchro by Atrabilogie